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No. It can’t be. He’s acted perfectly natural for the past few days and hasn’t given any indication of suspicion or confusion. Not even the faint bewilderment I occasionally saw in him the first few weeks. If he knows I’m not Amber, he would have confronted me. Probably thrown me out. I can explain this fumble away. I can find a way to address it.
I just need to figure out how.
* * *
I’ve been to the ballet before, but I’ve never attended an exclusive, invitation-only, premiere performance like this one.
Everyone is dressed up. Everyone clearly understands this as an occasion. And everyone seems to be looking over at me and William—either openly or discreetly—as we enter the lobby and make our way up to our seats.
My logic tells me they aren’t all looking at us, but it seems that way to me.
I feel absolutely gorgeous in my new gown. I’ve never felt so beautiful in my life. I’m wearing it with strappy bronze heels and a gold choker I found in Amber’s jewelry box that used to be our grandmother’s, set with a single dark brown gemstone that matches the beading in my dress. I’ve pulled my hair up into Amber’s trademark chignon, but I can’t keep a few loose strands from slipping out and framing my face. I made my eyes smoky with makeup and put on dark red lipstick, and I’m so ridiculously excited about my appearance that I might as well be a girl going to the prom.
William stared when I emerged from getting dressed. And he didn’t say anything as we made our way down to the car, although he kept looking at me. Finally, when the driver pulled away from the curb, I was too uncomfortable under the intensity of his silent gaze and asked, “Well? Do I look all right?”
“Beautiful.” He seemed to mean it. But he continued looking at me in that same way.
I’m not quite sure what it means. Probably admiration, but surely Amber has looked equally or even more beautiful than I do right now on multiple occasions. It’s not like William isn’t used to seeing her dressed up like this.
Maybe he’s suspicious. Maybe he thinks the gown isn’t right for Amber’s style or he’s still questioning my attending the ballet at all.
Either way, my stomach twists anxiously.
When we take our seats, I give him a slightly nervous smile. “Were you surprised I agreed to go with you tonight?”
He’s looking at me thoughtfully, although the corner of his mouth is turned up in an almost smile. “You never have before.”
“I know.” I’m relieved to be able to pull out my prepared explanation for the incongruity. “I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, but I’m trying to be better—like I said. And it just seems kind of selfish not to go when it’s something you enjoy. So I thought I would give it a try. As a… as a gesture.”
His smile widens. “Maybe you’ll enjoy it.”
“Maybe I will.” I’m smiling back, relaxing now that William seems to have bought the explanation.
I do enjoy the ballet. I’m not any sort of dance connoisseur, but I love the beauty and the drama of the performance, as well as the skill, grace, and power of the performers. I’m mostly wrapped up in the dancing, but I occasionally get the feeling that William is watching me, so I occasionally dart a quick glance over to his face.
He’s never looking at me.
During the intermission, we get up and stroll out to the upper lobby to get a glass of champagne and mingle. It’s not long before we’re surrounded by acquaintances, many people teasing Amber for finally attending the ballet and many others trying to touch base with William about a variety of business matters.
I follow the conversation as well as I can, but soon I’m getting disoriented from keeping up with so many people I don’t know. I’m also starting to feel overly hot in the crowded, stuffy lobby space.
When I can’t stand it anymore, I whisper to William that I’m going to get some air and walk out of the upper lobby and onto one of the terraces. There are a few other couples scattered about at the length of railing, but I move to an empty spot and stare out at the lights of the city.
It’s too chilly to be outside with bare arms and a low neckline like this. I wore a thick wrap but left it at my seat. I don’t care though. The brisk air is fresh and cool after the stuffiness of the lobby, and the quiet is a huge relief.
I breathe deeply and ignore the goose bumps that break out on my arms.
“It’s too cold,” William says, coming up behind me without warning. “You should go back inside.”
I shake my head, smiling up at him. For some reason, the sight of his watchful brown eyes and handsome face makes me feel happy, familiar, secure. “I’m fine. It was too hot in there anyway.”
Despite my words, my teeth chatter briefly as a shiver slices through me.
He rolls his eyes and takes off his black suit jacket, then drapes it around my shoulders. It’s warm and smells delicious—exactly like William. I burrow into it gratefully.
“Shouldn’t you be schmoozing?” I glance over my shoulder at the crowded lobby with a teasing smile.
“I schmoozed enough.”
